


no punch, drunk love

by jesseabrams



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, a tale of two bandits aftermath, aftermath fic, and making something complete is so exhausting sometimes, but anyway this is cute and small!, ommmmmmggggg, people have been asking me to write this for a while, this follows a tale of two bandits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 06:30:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20187826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesseabrams/pseuds/jesseabrams
Summary: While it’s true that life is made up of the big, memorable moments accompanied by grand gestures, the little things become monumental when you’re spending your life with your very best friend.follows a tale of two bandits, featuring drunk amy, bedtime routines, and little spoon jake.





	no punch, drunk love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DETSANTlAGO](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DETSANTlAGO/gifts).

> hi !!! a few ppl have been asking me to write this and i finally did so for those of u who did ... i didn't forget. swear. also i'm working on chap 2 of i think i saw the world turn in your eyes, i have like 1200 words written for it so far, creating is just exhausting with the things i have going on in my life, i know it's been a month,,, ANYWAY enjoy this because theres no angst!!!!!!!!

“Ames? You’ll _never_ guess who I--”

Jake’s words were met with Amy more or less flouncing into the room, her hands in fists, circulating wildly around her upper torso. His brows raised and a smile melted over his lips, his head tilted to the side. “Hey, you’re home,” she slurred, wide smile on her face. He was a genius (_duh_), but it didn’t take much deducing for Jake to put two and two together-- Amy was drunk, and likely, based on current stances, sitting comfortably at three drink Amy: Amy Dancepants, respectively.

“And you are _very_ drunk, wow, hi,” he chuckled, placing one hand on her lower back. She didn’t stay still for long-- she had to move, as said the title of her drunkenness, so it didn’t take him by surprise at all. Actually, he just found it endearing-- this was his wife, the love of his life. He loved all of her stages (and he, himself, based on that thought alone, felt a lot like mozzarella). 

“Beat the fire department in a drink off, we’re keeping Shaw’s,” she announced throughout her movements, a proud smile displayed over her lips. Her makeup was cracking a little (had she vomited?) and she looked tired, but not exhausted. He had no context for what she’d just told him, so he grinned, nodded, and got to hanging up his badge, gun, and jacket. 

“I didn’t know Shaw’s was in danger of not being kept?” he chuckled, his brows momentarily furrowing. Drunk Amy around him alone was one person while drunk Amy around the squad was a completely other person-- while her dancing was abstract alone, she deliberately wiggled herself around him. Not even in a _sexy timez_ sort of way; she just wanted to be in his orbit, which was a sober trait shining through. Jake and Amy were magnets-- if they could be, they’d always be touching. 

“Yeah, we saved it, don’t worry, all good,” Amy beamed, her hands dancing up his shoulders, along the side of his neck. Jake melted, his eyes softening as his own hands came up to gently hold her elbows and he yawned out, “it’s _so_ late, babe.”

It took some coaxing and a lot of water (one shared glass of apple juice, per Jake’s request) before Amy was watered down into slight sobriety. She was overwarm from the alcohol and still seeking Jake’s heat, and he obliged to her, one arm looped around her shoulders as he scrolled through his phone to catch up on whatever he’d missed while he was working, which wasn’t much-- long audio messages from Boyle that ended in near-to, I’m-practically-there-already sobbing about how he wasn’t at the bar, photos from Rosa that gave Amy’s explanations more context, and blurry, android-esque, basically-on-accident photos from Scully that… added nothing.

Once teeth were brushed, respective showers were taken, and sleep-appropriate clothing was on, Jake and Amy settled into their sides of the bed. Her with the comforter quilt pulled up to her chin, him sitting up with his back parallel to the bars on their headboard, pillow softening the metal.

Having separate days happened often with their jobs, Amy having a rank higher than him, not to mention being on a completely different floor of the precinct. This, however, was Jake’s favorite part of the day-- catching up, resettling, goodnight kisses, usually in that order. Then spooning, sometimes. Sometimes other things. He’d never complain. 

“... and Trudy Judy just took his M.O., started stealing cars the way Doug Judy did, had him framed. He faked his death, I sang at his funeral. Wasn’t as fun as it sounds,” Jake explained, turning to glance to Amy.

“That doesn’t sound fun at _all_.”

“Fair. It wasn’t,” he agreed, chin dipping in a diligent nod. “Remind me to never become a funeral singer?”

“Is _funeral singer_ even an occupation?” she asked, her arm cushioning her head as she smiled up at him. Jake’s brain was her favorite-- the way that he spoke and thought and put things together would never get old to her.

Jake flicked his lamp off and fixed his pillows, smiling. “No, but I could make it one. I’m just saying, remind me not to,” he yawned, a hand rubbing up and down his face, like he was trying to spread the sleep around to his eyes, and not just to his still running mouth.

“Right, since you’ve got it pretty good with your current job and all,” she said, indulging him. Amy’s lamp came off only a moment after Jake’s, and she sighed into her pillow. “So Trudy Judy is still at large?”

“Looks like it,” he said, turning so his back was facing her. Amy knew that was their goodnight cue-- in different ways, they’d both had long days, and sleep was more than a good enough option for right now. 

She just hummed, sidling right up against him. Her arms looped around his waist and Jake didn’t even bother fighting the smile that grew-- he always got to be the little spoon, but it never wouldn’t be his favorite way to be close to her. An added facet to the already great position was the kisses she’d throw in sometimes; if his head was tilted the right way or she was high enough up on the mattress, she’d lay pillowy soft kisses over the back of his neck and across the span of his shoulders. 

“Goodnight,” Amy breathed, her words muffled by the fabric of his tee shirt. She kissed the space under his ear and in response, his hands found hers, lightly squeezing as his thumb started a rubbing motion over her knuckles. “Love you,” he said back, and the sleep in his tone perfectly matched hers.

The room was basked in grey and the air conditioner hummed quietly around them. In the morning, they’d wake up together and have coffee, get ready in their different ways, and see who could beat who to the driver’s side of the car (the ‘loser’ would have to drive home at the end of the day).

While it’s true that life is made up of the big, memorable moments accompanied by grand gestures, the little things become monumental when you’re spending your life with your very best friend.

**Author's Note:**

> :,) cute loves i'd die for them! also i love comments and kudos + if you have anything u wanna see me write feel free to leave it in the comments and i'll put it in my book and get to it eventually!!!  



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